The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1887-04-07
TREACHERY FOlLED.

Consent to your marriage with
May cried Mrs. Delorme Indignantly.
.'Never, sir! You-the heir to Your
fathers position and wealth-marry a
girl with neither money nor family!
Preposterous! You are mad to dream
of such a thing. Your father would
disinherit You rather than consent-be
sure of that"
''Let him!' responded her son, no
less angrily. Il shall not sacrifice my
happiness and Mays for the sake of
my fathers money! She is beautiful
and good. ! remember that you saw
nothing incOngruOus in the idea of her
marrying Richard Staines, when he
proposed for her; and he is as rich as
| shall ever be, and of quite as good
family. Family. forsooth! May Will
mer's mother was a lady. if she was
your housekeeper, and her father was
as care to inquire into the pedigree
of the girl l lover
Mrs. Delorme regarded him with
pride and anger at once.
.You are self-willed headstrong
boyr' she said. .From your birth
that's now four-and-twenty years-you
have been petted, and humOred, and
indulged, until you recognize no law
but your own fancy. Your father and
l have other views for you. but you set
our wishes at defiance. What do you
care what we may suffer so that you
have your way? And for this girl of
all others to abet you in your disobedi-
ence! This girl whom took-a help
less, friendless orphan, from her dying
mothers arms-whom ever since have
cherished rs my very own! This is the
return she makes me. is it? Ungrate-
full beggar that she is"
Madame! For Heavens saker
1t was the agitated voice of young
girl that thus broke in upon the tor
rent of Mrs. Delorme's wrath and
checked its fury. A soft, sweet, trem-
ulous voice.
The speaker had entered the room
unobserved, and now stood pale and
trembling, with one little hand up
raised, as if to ward oil the bitter angry
words that fell on her heart like
blows.
Not 'beggar,' madame" she said
tearfully, ''or at least not until to-day.
1 was too young To know my own ne
cessities when your goodness first pro-
tected me, and, therefore, your charity
was as freely given as it was unques-
tionably received You have been-in
care, in affection, in tenderness true
mother to lne-oh, why is it such a
crime in nj to aspire to be Your daugh-
ter indeed? 1 am Il beggar to You now,
for beg you not to belle the goodness
of Your whole life Clarence and
have been brought up to love each
other: oh, do not-do not part usr'
But Mrs. Delorme turned on the
lovely plealer with eyes Of angry fire.
you were brought up as brother
and sister, she said. Il never dream
ed OF any other affection between you.
May Wilmer, hear me. 1t is best that
We should understand each other once
for all. IL is impossible that Clarence
should marry you without bringing
utter ruin on US all. Mr.. Delorme' :
business affairs are less prosperous than
the world supposes. Unless Clarence
weds wealthy bride he will be a poor
man. You know what his training has
been, and how little it has fitted him
for poverty and toll. Will You, by
your selfish love, condemn my son to
| them?"
Before the girl could reply, Clarence
broke in Indignantly:
| You don't know me, mother.
| raA =
sake. / am q man, and can toll, il
need be, for my wife-the woman
whom marry for pure love. l will
make a home for you, May, never fear
if you will trust me-"
But the girl shook her fair heaG
sadly.
Il shall never marry you without
your mothers consent, Clarence, she
said. '.Never, though my heart should
break. owe her everything. / can
not repay her with disObedience anC
ingratitude-Oh, l cannotr'
Mrs. Delorme was touched. With :
sudden impulse of affection she drew
the weeping girl to her bosom and kiss
ed her tenderly.
my child!' she said, signing, ''m,
good and dutiful child, more dutifu
than the son whom / love so devotedly
whose welfare is my life's one CARE
is not for his happiness or yours tina
yOu should marry. You are not titteC
for the stern battle of life-to be groun'
bsneath the iron heel of poverty. Yol
think ME cruel, but only save yo1
from yourself. The day will com
when you will thank me-"
..Never" cried Clarence bitterly
"There are limits even to a sons duty
mother. If, with cold axioms of world
ly wisdom, you estrange Mays hear
from me, you will drive away from yo
your only son. l swear it!' e.
May started, and looked from one,t t
the other in terror-these two, mothe
and son, so much alike, SO resolute, 5
self-willed, 50 proud.
..Oh, let me not bring trouble be
tween mother and childr' she cried
4.Anything-anything but thatn'
And hours afterwards-as she Ia
! alone and sorrowful, wakeful, on he
tear-wet pillow, through the lon
dreary watches of the night, ths
thought recurred, that prayer sti
fingered on her lips:
Il owe her all; let me not estrsng
her from her only child"
When morning dawned, there form
ed within her mind a certain resoll
ton.
Il will remove myself out of thei
lives" And she set about putting
1 into execution. when l am gone b
will forget me-" she thought wit
tears. II shall not stand in the Wa